War Changes Things

I can relate to you, Frodo Baggins,
not for your heroism in vanquishing
the Dark Lord of Middle Earth,
but for your inability to melt back
into the vivid green of the Shire.

How could you find rest
when the deepest wound of war
ached forever in your chest?
You never healed
from that cold, sharp stab
of the Nasgul's blade...

And every time you held
a sweet-smoldering pipe
or a frothy mug of beer,
your fourth stump of a finger
tingled from Gollum's bite
tearing flesh, cracking bone.

Years after Mordor's fall,
while Sam dozed off
to the sweet hum
of his own wife's voice,
you wandered off alone
in darkness,
the Ring's awful weight
still hanging from your neck.

It was time to leave your old home,
Frodo Baggins,
to tear free of the Shire's
comfort of warm hobbit holes,
fertile green hills,
creeks shimmering
silver by the moon.

This place was no longer
your refuge, your comfort,
but a reminder,
haunting of what once was
and could never be again.

Scott Speck
01/03/2004